


Sexual Heeling

by SenseAndSilence



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: BDSM, But Meaning Well, Dom Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Dom/sub Play, F/M, Romance, Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold Being an Asshole, Slow Burn, Sub Belle (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-04-29 19:03:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14479173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenseAndSilence/pseuds/SenseAndSilence
Summary: Since Lacey French finished high school, she has done nothing with her life except slowly following her father's footsteps into alcoholism. Her daily routine consists of drinking, gambling, petty vandalism and general troublemaking. One night, her good-for-nothing boyfriend Gary convinces her to steal from the richest man in town. Mr. Gold isn't impressed.





	1. Dare To Fail

**Author's Note:**

> I'm super new at writing and English isn't necessarily my strong suit. Please beat me up about that. Seriously. If you find mistakes, let me know, I want to learn.

Lacey had protested the idea at first, but Gary had called her a coward and the drunken, rebellious part of her had roared up inside her, telling her to show him what she was capable of. With broken glass crunching beneath her boots, it seemed that this fierce impulsive part of her had suddenly vanished to leave her standing in the back of Gold’s dark pawnshop with her heart beating erratically into the eerie silence.

She had broken the small glass panel in the back door with a brick from the back alley before carefully squeezing herself through the jagged hole that remained. But now that she had forced her entry into the shop, it occurred to her that she didn’t know what exactly she wanted here in the first place. Her and Gary had just riled each other up into doing something, anything stupid, cheap vodka urging them along. The little shop of Storybrook’s most hated man had been conveniently close and therefore become a welcome target for their escalating game. 

The moment Lacey had actually dared to turn the words into actions, all their cocky boasting and posturing seemed pointless and stupid. Did she really want to steal from a man she’d never actually interacted with much? She didn’t even know the guy. Sure, Gold was known to be a bastard, but while she had witnesses him being sarcastic and cold towards her father on rent days a few times, he had always acted nothing but polite towards her. 

Her father, indisputably a difficult man himself, had missed regular payments on several occasions and for all Lacey knew, half the town could have the exact same motivation for hating their landlord. What if Gold was just a misunderstood, lonely old guy who had become grumpy over years of social isolation, forced on him due to the nature of his profession? What would her mother say if she saw her act like this?

Lacey felt a hollow sensation in her chest and for a moment, she thought she might cry right where she stood, on top of the broken shards of someone else’s property. She mentally shook herself. It didn’t matter. She had broken the back door anyway and couldn’t very well fix that now. The financial damage she had inflicted upon Gold’s fortune certainly wouldn’t kill him and it didn’t matter if she added another few bucks to it by stealing something small to win Gary’s dare. She could even add a few bucks of her pocket money to the next rent payment. Her father wouldn’t check the envelope before handing it over and she could maybe write up a note explaining the extra amount?

Lacey sighed. 

Nope, that idea was pretty stupid. What sensible explanation would there be for paying more than they owed him. Gold would become suspicious right away and it would just direct his attention towards them. She might not be sure about her landlord’s character but if there was one thing she knew Gold couldn’t be called, it was stupid or naive. 

Swallowing her doubts and a considerable amount of remorse, Lacey carefully stepped over the scattered glass and tried to get her eyes accustomed to the darkness around her. The little back room was crammed, filled to the ceiling with clocks, antiques, books and other trinkets. Every one of its walls was covered by shelves with an additional closet creating a partition wall, dividing the room in two functional halves. Slowly getting used to the dark, Lacey could make out a workbench with a wooden chair to her right side, its surface equally crammed as the rest of the room. Then, there was a little, disheveled looking cot in the back left corner. For a posh guy like him, Gold seemed to be surprisingly messy.

“Hey, Lace! Could you hurry up?” she heard Gary whisper from behind her, “We haven’t got all fucking night!”

Having secured a basic overview of her surroundings, Lacey looked around for something to grab before she could rejoin Gary. Most of the things she saw were either to heavy and bulky for her to carry outside or looked like they cost a fortune. Certainly more than she could ever hope to reimburse him for with the little money she had stashed under her bed. 

Finally, Lacey’s gaze fell onto a white and blue tea set that sat on the shelf directly across from her. Perfect, she thought. She would just take one of the teacups. That way her loot wouldn’t be too valuable and could also prove to Gary’s gang that she’d actually stolen from the pawnbroker later on, when he eventually sold the rest of the set in his shop. 

Happy with her plan, Lacey quickly made her way across the room and had just grabbed one of the four cups from when she felt something solid come down on her shoulder with hard force. A startled scream escaping her, Lacey stumbled backwards into an old grandfather clock, letting the cup fall from her open hand. Her shoulder burning with pain and blinded by a sudden light, she lost her balance and fell to the side, grasping the edge of an old chaise lounge next to her. Terrified, she raised her head to look right into Gold’s angry eyes, his face distorted with fury. 

“How dare you!” he bellowed, spewing little bits of spittle into her face. “You little rat!” 

When he lifted his cane for another attack, Lacey pushed herself of the ground and slipped underneath his arm, simultaneously pushing him to the side. Now, it was his turn to loose his balance and he fell backwards with an indignant groan. Terror and shame pushing her, Lacey ran across the room and half fell, half jumped through the broken panel, feeling the glass rip at her legs. Ignoring the biting pain in her shoulder and her legs, she took off down the alley as if the devil himself was pursuing her. 

Gary, she noticed, was nowhere to be seen.


	2. Cut Your Losses

When Lacey arrived at her father’s flat, she was out of breath, her face red and her pulse drumming loudly in her ears. She had run the entire way from the pawnshop to her home without slowing down or looking back once, a cacophony of swear words and panicked curses ringing in her head. Lacey tried to calm down, but it seemed like an eternity until her shaking hands managed to unlock the front door. As soon as it had closed behind her, Lacey’s knees gave out beneath her and she sank down to the floor, her back pressed against the solid wood. 

Fuck.

He had seen her, she was sure of it. There was no way Gold hadn’t recognized her, so there would surely be consequences. He’d probably send the police after her and she’d end up in jail, her already bleak looking future made even bleaker. But could they prove that she was the one who had broken into his shop? Had she left fingerprints? Yes, Lacey realized with her stomach dropping, she had touched the teacup after all. Though, even if she hadn’t, his word stood against hers and it wasn’t a mystery who the police would believe. Who told the truth, the richest man in town with no reason to lie or the drunk, jobless troublemaker that already had a few misdemeanors on her record. 

Fuck.

The adrenaline in her system had ebbed off and the pain in Lacey’s legs was now overtaking that in her shoulder by far. When she looked down, what she saw shocked her. Her leggings were ripped to shreds and her legs were covered in cuts, some deeper than others. Blood was seeping through the ruined fabric and her left calf was covered in it. With a thud, Lacey’s head connected with the door behind her and she clamped her eyes shut. This night was a disaster. Maybe she could somehow hide the cuts and she and Gary could cook up an alibi if she called him right away and made sure that they would keep their story straight. It was probably impossible that Gold had seen him, considering that Gary had deserted her as soon as things went south, the dick. 

Lacey pushed her hands into the pockets of her jacket to get her phone out when she suddenly realized that they were empty. Frantically, she ran her hands down her bruised sides. Nothing. Fearing the worst, she raised herself off the floor and checked the back pockets of her leggings. Again, nothing. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Her phone had to have fallen out of her pocket when she ran home. Lacey wanted to cry. She wanted to go to her bed, curl up in a blanket and wake up to a world of upright citizenship and good decision making. Why did she have to keep doing stupid shit like this, she scolded herself. What did it matter if Gary called her a coward? Why couldn’t she just live a productive life, like so many other people in Storybrook? Maybe if she hadn’t dated Gary and started to hang out with his friends after school, maybe if she hadn’t taken failure for granted and actually applied herself to something, she wouldn't be here. Or maybe she could have made it despite Gary or Moe or her mother just… anyway. She needed to pull herself together right now, Lacey told herself. There was no time for self-pity nor self-loathing.

She considered her options. What about Ruby, she thought. Sure, they had drifted apart a bit after they had finished high school but there hadn’t been any bad blood and Ruby would surely grant her asylum for a week or two. Maybe, if the police couldn’t find her and Lacey was able to contact Gary about that alibi, things would calm down enough to get away with this whole thing. Yes, Lacey told herself, this was the best plan she could come up with at this point. Getting up from her position against the door, Lacey wasted no time to set it in motion. Her legs pulsating painfully, she ran up the stairs, not even checking her father’s room (he wouldn’t be there, Friday was poker night at the docks), and started throwing a few essentials into an old duffle bag. Once Lacey had packed everything she could think of, she grabbed some loose sweatpants from her closet and went into the adjacent bathroom. There, she examined the state of her legs.

Most of the cuts on the top of her thighs looked small and superficial, but there was one on the side of her right leg that still had a piece of glass stuck in it. Quickly, Lacey shuffled through the messy drawers under the sink until she found a rusty pair of tweezers. Biting her bottom lip, she carefully pulled out the remaining glass out of her wound. The cut began bleeding anew and a sharp stab of pain ran up her leg. Lacey squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the pain to subside, then looked at the biggest cut that remained. It was situated on the underside of her left calf, directly beneath the hollow of her knee. The wound looked ragged and dirty, the skin around it swollen and colored an angry red. Blood had oozed down from it along the length of her leg and made her foot feel wet inside her boot. Lacey felt her stomach churn and she forced herself to take a deep breath. There didn’t seem to be any glass left in her flesh, so that was good. As the bleeding had mostly stopped, she decided to leave it be and bandage it as soon as she arrived at Ruby’s. She didn’t have the resources nor the time for it now.

Slowly, she eased her ruined leggings down her legs. The dried, bloodied fabric pulled at her cuts and she winced. Having gotten rid of them, Lacey stepped into the small, dirty shower stall behind her and pointed the shower head at her legs. She tried her best not to think of what washing her legs would feel like. When the spray of cold water hit her lacerated skin, the pain almost made her legs give out underneath her. Lacey hissed a curse and forced herself to count to ten before turning the water off again. Her eyes had teared up and her legs were burning but she nevertheless pointed the shower head towards the back of her legs and turned the water on once more. This time, she could suppress a short shout of pain and she turned the water off after just a few seconds.

Breathing shallowly, Lacey carefully stepped out of the stall. She took a semi-clean towel from the radiator and dried off her legs as softly as possible, avoiding to press on the deepest cut beneath her knee. She decided that her legs still looked horrible, but were at least somewhat clean. Relieved to have survived this hellish procedure, Lacey once more took a deep breath. Suddenly, she felt tired and drained, like she hadn’t slept in days. Hopefully, Ruby would be okay with her plan and she could fall asleep on her couch in a few minutes. Sighing, she stepped out of the bathroom and slung the prepared bag over her shoulder.

Running back down the stairs, Lacey was already planning the route she could take to Ruby’s house if she wanted to avoid bigger streets and police patrols. She decided on a route that was slightly longer but almost entirely shrouded in darkness, leading through a few back garden’s and a stretch of Storybrook’s only park. Then, she opened the door. 

There, looking nothing like a man that had just been robbed, stood Mr. Gold, his weight balanced casually on his cane . 

“Ms. French.” he said, holding out her phone with a mocking tilt of his head. “I think we need to talk.”


	3. Deal With It

Lacey instinctively took a step backwards at first, but quickly collected herself. Maybe she could climb out of a window, she thought, taking a hold of the door in order to swing it shut. But Mr. Gold had already pressed the flat of his hand against it.

“Ah ah, dearie,” he tutted, his expression turning serious. “Let’s not do something stupid now, shall we? You tried to rob me and I have evidence of it.”

Hearing the word evidence immediately made Lacey’s fight or flight response switch to the offensive. “My fingerprints are on that teacup because – because I touched it when I was looking through the items in your shop sometime!”

Mr. Gold chuckled loftily but his gaze darkened even more.

“No, no, no… I am not a man that plays games, Ms. French. Especially when you are playing so badly. The tea set was a very recent acquisition of mine and I haven’t had the chance to display it yet, a fact that’ll be easily attestable in court.” He paused, looking triumphant. “I keep extensive records, after all.”

The mention of court made Lacey’s head spin and when he took a step inside her apartment, his height advantage over her became more noticeable.

“Even if I couldn’t attest for the tea set, however, your little heist would still be a failure.” Mr. Gold looked at her like a disappointed parent. “I did wonder how much you had to drink to be stupid enough not to check for cameras.”

“Cameras?” Lacey gasped.

“Cameras.” he confirmed, giving the door a smooth kick behind his back so that it fell shut with a bang of hopeless resignation. The last remnants of Lacey’s willingness to fight fizzled out in her suddenly cold chest. She was well and truly fucked.

Mr. Gold turned towards the hallway as if he was a guest and she had just invited him into her home. “If you would be so kind as to take me to the kitchen, I’ll make us some tea.”

Not questioning anything anymore, Lacey lead the way to their tiny kitchen, dread forming a heavy stone in her stomach. If Mr. Gold had security footage of the incident, then why was he even here? What did he want from her? Couldn’t he just go to the police, hand over the evidence and let them do the rest? Confusion mixed with her fear and made her head spin.

When they entered the kitchen, Mr. Gold made a disapproving noise. The room was a mess. Dirty dishes were piling up in the sink, the cupboards and floor were crusted in a thin layer of unidentifiable filth and the whole room smelled rank, like slightly rotten vegetables and rancid fat. In a burst of enthusiasm, Lacey had bought some flowers a week ago and placed them in an old vase of her mothers on top of the table. Now they were wilted, looking sad and neglected on the cramped little table.

“Well,” Mr. Gold muttered, his nose scrunched in disgust. “How cozy.”

He took a few tentative steps inside the room, and looked around with the curiosity and manner of a man examining a rare disease. Finally, he slowly leaned his cane against the edge of the table, hesitating, watching the handle of his cane as if he feared that the old table might collapse under the weight of it.

Still light-headed, Lacey followed him into the room like a duckling following its mother.

“I haven’t had the chance to clean up in some time,” she tried to defend the state of her surroundings when she noticed his disgust. “I was pretty busy.”

“With what, burglary?” he asked, giving her a sharp look.

Lacey flinched. “Listen, Mr. Gold, I-”

“No, you listen - sit down,” he ordered her, not giving her a chance to speak. “I will make you a proposal now and then we’ll have tea. Afterwards, you may ask me any questions you have about said proposal before you make a decision concerning the future of your life.”

Lacey stared, uncomprehending.

  
Impatiently, he waved her towards one of the decrepit chairs as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world for him, a posh man in a three piece suit, to take control of her run-down kitchen. After he had assured himself that Lacey was safely seated next to his cane, Gold took a moment to consider the cabinets around him. Soon enough, he began opening and closing cupboards in search of the necessary elements for tea making, moving smoothly and without hesitation, as if he had been in this exact kitchen before and only needed some time to reacquaint himself with it. Then again, Lacey supposed that wasn’t so far from the truth. He owned the building after all and Lacey remembered that most of the flats had the same basic outline. In essence, this _was_ his kitchen.

Having found an old tin box full of what smelled like cheap Earl Grey, he prepared it in a kettle that even to him looked surprisingly non-toxic and put it on the rusty stove that sat in the corner of the room. After a while of further searching, Mr Gold gave up on finding something resembling teacups and just took two of the dirty mugs from the smelly pile of dishes, clearing out the sink as much as he could so that he could attempt to wash them. There was a half-empty bottle of dish soap but no sponge and thus, with a disapproving sigh, Mr Gold took his silk handkerchief out of his breast pocket and applied a generous amount of soap onto it, readying to clean the mugs.

This shocked Lacey out of her stupor.

“You don’t have to do that!” she exclaimed, attempting to get up in order to do something, anything, to stop this ridiculous situation.

“Sit down!” Mr Gold ordered for the second time, more forcefully now. He turned back over his shoulder and gave Lacey a look that made her sit back down immediately. “I told you that you would listen and you will. But first, you let me finish making you tea.”

He finished washing the mugs, gave them a last rinse and then, after giving the grime-encrusted towel on the radiator a dirty look, put them down on the table before her, still wet but perfectly clean.

Now waiting for the kettle to boil, Mr. Gold seemed fidgety. He took up his cane again and placed it firmly between his feet and leaned on it with both of his hands, studying the back of his knuckles. Then, it seemed like his whole body straightened and he focused his attention back on Lacey.

She didn’t like it at all. Trying to avoid eye contact, she herself began studying his knuckles. His hands were slender with thin, long fingers. Piano playing fingers, her mother would have said. But they looked too rough for the fine arts, the skin calloused and chapped at places, and suddenly Lacey remembered the smell of solvent she had picked up on in the back of his shop.

“You might ask yourself why I am here,” he began, studying her pale expression. “After all, I could just take the security tape to the police and let them deal with you, instead of exposing myself to this health hazard you call a home and the danger that comes with confronting petty criminals.”

He paused and Lacey thought about protesting his rude tone but decided against it, knowing that it wouldn’t go over well and curious about where this was going. Anyway, he was right, wasn’t he? The flat was filthy, so much so that she herself actively avoided spending time in it and, at least technically, she was a petty criminal now.

“Lucky for you, I don’t believe that jail time and financial costs will teach you anything. Quite correctly, I must say, as from what I’ve seen I cannot fathom that there is much financial reimbursement to be had from you and jail would certainly be an upgrade to whatever this is.”

He scoffed disparagingly.

The kettle whistled behind him, momentarily distracting Gold from his lecture while he took it off the stove and carefully filled up their mugs. The tea smelled amazing in the otherwise stuffy room and Lacey felt as if her surroundings sharpened when she wrapped her hands around the mug before her and inhaled the strong aroma of the dark liquid inside it. Up until this moment, everything had more or less felt like a nightmare. Scary and threatening, but dreamy nonetheless. The warmth in her hands centered her and seemed to collect her thoughts. She looked up at Gold, who now had taken a seat across from her, and felt newly determined to deal with whatever he was going to throw at her. She would get out of this mess somehow, she thought, trying to ignore the pain of her legs throbbing against the soft fabric of her pants.

Gold continued.

“As I was saying, I don’t believe the judicial system will discipline you in any way that would be meaningful to you. That does not mean, however, that I’m not prepared to make use of it if you decline my offer.” He pointed a single finger at her, like a strict teacher scolding a misbehaving student. “Meaningful or not, there will be consequences to your little stunt tonight, do you understand?”

Lacey nodded mutely, still waiting for him to continue. She was too tired to actively inquire about what his so-called offer entailed. Too tired to react to his dramatic gestures.

“Say yes or no, Lacey” he reprimanded her.

“Yes,” she said, thinking it would come out monotonous and thus surprised herself when she realized that she sounded irritable. Gold, however, seemed to let it go.

“Good. My offer is as follows: You will work at my shop for the next year. Once you’ve worked off the debt you owe me for the broken door and the damaged tea set, I will pay you what I believe is an adequate amount of wages. If there is anything else that I might want you to do, you will do so. It won’t happen often but when it does, I don’t care if it is the weekend or your birthday, your work for me will have first priority.”

“Wha-” Lacey opened her mouth to say something but Gold ignored her.

“Furthermore, you will clean this hovel up immediately so that when I visit in a week’s time, I will find a clean, livable space. I cannot believe how much you destroyed this flat in the few years you’ve been renting from me. This alone I could have you in court over.”

“I-” Once again Lacey tried to protest and once again, she was talked over. Gold was determined.

“If you agree to my offer, I will draw up a contract that you can sign tomorrow. Otherwise, I can give you a ride to the police station tonight. Understood?”

Lacey stared at him, frowning, then looked at her tea when she couldn’t stand his intense gaze. This whole thing was overwhelming. Once more, she felt the need to curl up in a blanket and be held. She just wished for someone to tell her that everything was going to be alright. Carefully, in case it was still too hot, she took a sip of her tea. It was delicious and slightly lemony, making her feel safe when its warmth slowly spread through her chest.

Gold waited patiently until she had put down her mug.

“You said I could ask questions,” she mumbled, her voice sounding small and intimidated.

“You may.”

“You said that I would have do to ‘anything else” that you might want me to do...”

“Yes.”

Lacey hesitated. “So does that mean…?” She raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

Gold frowned, impatient. “Mean what, girl? For heaven’s sake, open your mouth.”

She sighed.

“You know,” she said, pointedly looking at where she suspected Mr. Gold’s crotch was situated beneath the table. “Sex things.”

“What!?” Gold spluttered with indignation, his expression disgusted. “Who do you take me for?”

Lacey just continued observing him over her tea. “So... no?”

“No!” The poor man was visibly flustered. “Your duties will not be of a sexual nature. I will make that clear in the contract, if you’d like.”

Lacey nodded quickly, squirming in her chair due to the sudden awkwardness in the room. Immediately, she flinched, her wounds burning at the movement. Luckily, Gold was too busy fighting his own embarrassment to notice, a rose tint blooming on his cheeks.

“I guess then I agree,” Lacey said, shrugging. “Spending a year being paid for work I don’t want to do is better than spending who-knows-how-much time unpaid in jail, right?”

Gold stiffened at her obvious disinterest in his profession but then relaxed again and nodded in agreement.

“Good,” he said, standing up and taking up his cane in order to leave, “Then we have a deal.”

He looked at his watch, his eyes narrowing.

“Considering the hour, you can come to the shop tomorrow at noon to sign the contract and start working.”

Lacey had gotten up too, noticing the wet bundle of silk next to the sink but assuming he wouldn’t want to take it with him anyway. When he turned away, she followed him out of the kitchen and down the dark hallway to the door. She remembered her father and wondered at what time he would come home, hoping that it would be long after Gold had vanished so she wouldn’t have to explain their landlord’s presence in the early hours of the morning.

Said landlord roused her from her musings.

“Oh, I forgot to mention one last thing.” His tone was light. “During the year that you will work for me, you will not drink, nor take any drugs and you will agree to random drug testing at my will. If I find out that you have violated this part of our agreement, it will be void and I will turn the security tape over to the police and press charges.”

Lacey felt indignation raise the hairs on the back of her neck.

“What I do in my free time-” Lacey started to protest but was interrupted right away.

“Will from now on be up to me,” Gold snarled, sounding final, “Not up for discussion.”

Petulantly, Lacey crossed her arms before her chest but said nothing, staring daggers into the tips of Gold’s black leather shoes.

When Gold opened the door to step outside, Lacey collected all of her courage and spoke up.

“It’s not really any of my business and it’s not like I can decline your offer anyway if I don’t want to suffer the consequences but… what’s in it for you?”

“Excuse me?” Gold turned back to her once more, surprised.

“Like, what do you get out of this? Why are you offering this to me? We both know that there’s a hundred more qualified, more motivated shop assistants you could hire to help you.”

“I don’t need a shop-assistant,” he agreed, the statement somewhat unsettling in its absurdity.

Lacey swallowed down the panic that suddenly threatened to overwhelm her.

“So why this offer, then?” she asked, trying to remain calm.

Gold raised his chin, his eyes fixing her like a butterfly under a needle.

“I like to be in control,” he finally answered, turning away to vanish into the dark stairwell.


End file.
